


Lay me gently

by quinceymorris



Category: Dracula & Related Fandoms, Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, can they just have a good day. Pls bram. i'm Begging You.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-05 12:17:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21208412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quinceymorris/pseuds/quinceymorris
Summary: “When I married you,” she began, her fingers pressed against his lips, “I said I would give you myself, my life, and my trust, along with my love and duty.” Her hands found his again, his thumbs brushing over her knuckles. Another weak smile passed over her lips at the contact, then a frown. “I’m afraid I’m dying.”“No, you’re not,” he said softly.“You know I am.”





	Lay me gently

**Author's Note:**

> this idea has been brewing in my head for ages, and after 2 months of working back and forth on this i think it's finally ready to be unleashed. the original novel and characters are such a huge comfort to me so i hope it served it/them justice. there's a part of me that's still pretty nervous, but i hope you enjoy. all feedback, comments, etc. are really appreciated and accepted. ♡

The men spoke in hushed tones outside her door, Mina clutching her pillow as she waited patiently for Jonathan to enter. She had not changed, still wearing her dress, too tired, too scared to switch it for her nightgown. When she closed her eyes, she saw him holding a stake over the heart of a woman that looked nothing like her, with the pale, icy cold skin and red lips that promised nothing but sin, but baring her resemblance all the same. Seeing the pain in each other’s eyes, feeling it in each other’s trembling, cautious touches, became worse each day. She would rather be cursed, as she was now, than to ever see that look again.

It didn’t take long for him to notice she was still awake, having entered quietly as to not disturb her. She stood up quickly, a weak but genuine smile on her lips, and red eyes that shone in the lantern’s low light, as she offered her hand to him. “Did it go well?”

_No._

Maybe she would’ve enjoyed Varna if the circumstances had been different.

When he caressed her cheek, she closed her eyes, trying to imagine it was him. Not the iron grip that forced her close. Those bared, horrible teeth sinking into her. His hands were warm, soft. Jonathan’s. They were both here, taking comfort in each other’s presence. The crucifix would protect them, and they would protect each other.

Her eyes were brimming with tears by the time she opened them. Jonathan opened his mouth to say something, but she had already held up a hand to stop him.

“When I married you,” she began, her fingers pressed against his lips, “I said I would give you myself, my life, and my trust, along with my love and duty.” Her hands found his again, his thumbs brushing over her knuckles. Another weak smile passed over her lips at the contact, then a frown. “I’m afraid I’m dying.”

“No, you’re not,” he said softly.

“You know I am.”

Deafening silence filled the room. She was trembling, unsure if she could help it and burrowing her face into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.

After a few moments, she let go, unwrapping herself from him. “I want to give you myself tonight.” It was only until he had lifted her chin with his finger that she looked up at him. Mina wrung her hands, waiting for his response.

He was just about to ask if she was sure when she captured his lips with her own.

The pair had typically been brief in their affections, reserving it for chaste kisses and holding each other’s hands, too scared following recent experiences to delve any further. This was anything but.

She pulled him closer as she clutched his shirt, a hand removing the pins in her hair, his kisses trailing off to her cheek. He paused, pulling away to gaze at her. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

She simply nodded, slowly taking his hands in her own and bringing him back to her.

They took their time, soft, gentle kisses turning sloppy upon her jaw, his lips, warmth enveloping the both of them as she combed the silvery hair through her fingers. Her fingertips soon found the buttons on his waistcoat, lightly tracing them before popping them open one by one. She peeled it off. Then his tie, his shirt. Her dress, with just as equal tenderness and care as she had shown him. She felt the bed’s soft mattress as he had laid her down, settling over her as she leaned up on her elbows. He undid her corset carefully, slowly, and she sat up, allowing him to lift her shift over her head afterwards. Their fingers grazed each other’s seams and pulled off bloomers, trousers, and stockings.

She remembered when he had left for his journey, the months of waiting, her coming to the graveyard at Whitby for solace as she silently prayed for his safe return. He thought of how her name and the crucifix had been there to ground him. His hands were cracked, bleeding from the rough edges of the castle’s stone, his eyes glazed over, body trembling at every sudden noise, taken under the convent’s care. She warmed his cold hands in her own when she found him, tenderly kissing them and his lips as she did so. His reaction at the sight of the Count, now having grown younger, the ghost-white look upon his face almost frightening to see. It had only been the beginning.

Her gaze lingered on him as she lay there, her arms above her head, heart beating in her throat, watching as his hands brushed away the strands of her hair that had fallen out of place. Part of her was afraid, his gentle touches so calming but the mere thought that she was to be punished looming in her mind, but also yearning to hold _him_ close enough to hear his own heartbeat and kiss _him_ as sweetly as he was kissing her now. Mina gave way into yearning, smiling against his lips and wrapping her arms around his neck as she rolled him over, guiding him to press against the propped up pillows. She pressed soft kisses on his chest, and then his lips, cupping his face so tenderly it felt as if her hands weren’t there at all, settling onto his lap. His hands found her hips and she moaned quietly at the scraping of his fingers against the soft skin, trembling against him, but still pressing herself closer all the same. She wanted to feel and taste and hear every part of him.

When he finally took her, he had stifled a groan, her head tilting towards the ceiling. They moved together slowly, wanting to relish the moment while it was theirs, holding each other close and pressing gentle kisses anywhere they could reach. She traced his collarbone, soon beginning to kiss his shoulders, the smooth, unmarked expanse of his throat, a hand caressing her side, soft smiles forming on their lips when they felt the warm flesh, expecting it to be cold and firm (or, in Jonathan’s case, supple and almost tantalizing, and yet repulsive all the same).

The scars caught in the light.

He longed to stroke them, maybe even gently kiss them, and remind her that she was and would forever be safe. He almost did, until he realized she was looking at him with such hurt in her eyes that he thumbed her cheek instead. She parted her lips as if to say something, perhaps a plea, or remembering that she was unclean and wished to stop, cut off by a whisper that escaped his lips.

“I love you,” he said.

He kissed away her tears before his soft lips moved down to her jaw. “I love you.” She breathed it over and over again. They both knew it well, saying it countless times out loud and through letters, actions, touches and embraces, but it was different now, desperate, carrying the sacredness of a vow as they kissed and cradled each other.

She had stopped shaking, easing into his warmth as he stroked her lower back, gazing at him before moving to his lips. Mina didn’t stop when he caught onto something in her, moaning as her eyes fluttered open and then closed. Her nails skimmed his upper arm. “Jonathan,” she gasped. “Jonathan.” She kissed his jaw as she heard him murmur her name.

They held each other close. He felt her pulse around him, and she kissed him needily as she felt him still and then spend.

He kept kissing her as he pushed her onto her back, now her turn to lay against the pillows, her hands finding his face to stroke and caress the sides of it, and eventually his neck, shoulders, and arms. Their foreheads pressed together when they finally separated, him feeling the rough edges of where the host had burned her, and soft, somber smiles on their faces. One last, lingering kiss was placed upon her lips before he lay next to her. She turned to rest her head on his chest, wrapped in his arms, the two of them staring into each other’s eyes.

She would remember all of it. How he held her close, the way his lips felt against her own, the sound of his beating heart, memorizing each and every moment in fear it’d be the last. He did the same, although he wouldn’t let it be, not in that secret promise he made to himself, but he did it all the same. The freckles on her cheeks, her small hands, the warmth in her touch and kisses and embraces.

Eventually they fell asleep together, his hands wound in her hair from stroking it, resting peacefully in each other’s arms.

There was work to be done in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> stan jonathan/mina for clear skin and good grades!!!


End file.
